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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989803">Taste of an Angel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/demoniccattus/pseuds/demoniccattus'>demoniccattus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Season 4 Castiel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:27:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/demoniccattus/pseuds/demoniccattus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if angel contracts were made the same way that demon contracts were?</p><p>Takes place in the scene from 4x21 "When The Levee Breaks" when Dean pledges himself to God's will.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Taste of an Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The first half's dialogue is directly from the episode, just so you know. I couldn't stop thinking about this idea ever since I watched the episode last month :) And season 4 Cas/Dean is another flavor, for sure.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean suddenly saw movement in the corner of his eye along with the tell-tale whisper of celestial wind, and turned to face Castiel. </p><p>“Well it’s about time! I’ve been screaming myself hoarse for about two and a half hours now.” He was too upset to be embarrassed at the way his voice scraped. Cas was supposed to be <em>helping</em> him <em>stop the apocalypse</em> and then he up and disappears. </p><p>Cas was leaned against a large vertical beam with one foot up. “What do you want?” His voice was flat.</p><p>“Well you can start with what the hell happened in Illinois!”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Cas began to walk towards Dean.</p><p>“Cut the crap, you were gonna tell me something.” In Dean’s dream, Cas had seemed...worried. Which was something Dean didn’t often see in his stoic friend. ...Were they even friends?</p><p>Castiel looked away. “Nothing of import.”</p><p>“You got ass-reamed in heaven. But it was nothing of <em> import </em>?”</p><p>They were face to face now. “Dean…I can’t.” Cas gave him a hard look. His eyes were strangely blue in the dark shipment yard, the color sticking out despite the darkness enshrouding them. “...I’m sorry.” Cas paced away from him. “Get to the reason you really called me. It’s about Sam, right?”</p><p>“Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?”</p><p>“Possibly, yes.” Cas turned around to face him once more. “But as you know, he’d have to take certain steps.”</p><p>“Crank up the hell-blood regimen,” Dean said, words tight.</p><p>“Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever.” Castiel almost looked worried. Dean supposed he <em> should </em> be, though it’s unlikely Cas cared for his younger brother past his capacity to make or break the apocalypse. “Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill.”</p><p>This idea wasn’t new to Dean having worried himself ill over Sam and his demon blood for the last two years, even since before hell. Sam and him had had the conversation over and over about what they should do if Sam were to become a demon, Sam insisting that he should be killed. Now, the tables had turned and Sam was the one begging for Dean to understand that he was somehow doing <em> good </em> by becoming what they hated most in this world. It made Dean’s stomach ache.</p><p>Castiel continued, “There’s no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean. We believe it’s <em> you </em> , Dean. Not your brother.” He once more stepped close to face Dean, expression woeful. “The only question for us is whether you’re willing to accept it. Stand up and accept your role. <em> You </em> are the one who will stop it.”</p><p>Dean searched Cas’ face warily. Dean didn’t know how he could possibly be someone <em> that </em> important, and frankly he already had enough weight on his shoulders to crush a lesser man, but this was it. The apocalypse was upon them and they had to act <em> now </em>: if he could stop it himself without Sam going full freak-mode, it had to be done. </p><p>“If I do this...Sam doesn’t have to?”</p><p>“If it gives you comfort to see it that way.”</p><p>Dean scoffed and shook his head. “God, you’re a dick these days.” He paced away from Cas, Cas not turning to watch him. He shifted from foot to foot. So the angels were just gonna use him as their little apocalypse G.I. Joe?  He felt a twinge of fear--not at what could happen to him, but at how little he <em> cared </em> what could happen to him. Dean sucked in a breath and let it go slowly. “Fine, I’m in.”</p><p>Cas’ voice came from behind him, low. “You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?”</p><p>Dean closed his eyes, irritated by the sudden formality. “Yeah. Exactly.” He turned to face Cas once more. “What, we gotta seal this like a demon deal or something?”</p><p>Their eyes met and suddenly Dean realized what he had said in front of heaven’s most deadpan angel, and also one he found himself irrationally attracted to. He opened his mouth to crack some joke, but Cas cut him off.</p><p>“Well...yes. It is generally the way contracts are formed, heaven or hell.”</p><p>Oh God. Castiel’s eyes were still locked on his but Dean had to look away. “Um, yeah, uh-sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, trying to hide his face which was heating up. </p><p>Cas walked up to Dean, the air now electric between them. Had Cas ever kissed anyone before? If this was how contracts were made, then surely…but Dean and Cas had a <em> thing </em> . Dean wasn’t sure how to describe it. He had been hoping that Cas wouldn’t notice the way his gaze always drifted to his lips when he forgot about personal space, or the way his heart pounded in his chest whenever he heard the whoosh of his arrival. Cas was other-worldly and undeniably strange, but Dean felt an even stranger sense of ownership over the angel that had saved his damned pile of bones from <em> actual hell </em>. He got full-body shivers whenever someone happened to touch the handprint scar on his shoulder, whatever that was supposed to mean. The point is, the kiss would unfortunately mean something to Dean. But hell, he’d take it.</p><p>“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Cas said, “but it’s part of the ritual. Most humans like it, I’ve heard.”</p><p>Dean huffed. Of course they did, angels being, well, angels. He raised his head to meet Cas’ stare. “No tongue, alright, champ?” He felt strangely wobbly and shuffled a step even closer to Cas, the closest he’d ever been.</p><p>“Repeat what I said.” Cas’ eyes were so goddamn blue.</p><p>“I give myself over wholly to serve God and you guys,” said Dean, attempting nonplussed. He could feel Cas’ breath on his face.</p><p>Cas seemed to accept that, nodding minutely. Dean was not one to wait, but something about this moment felt sacred. He let himself explore Cas’ face, the hood of his brow, the cut of his cheekbones, the scruff of his 5 o’clock shadow. He brought one hand up to cup the back of Cas’ neck, the touch sending shocks through him. Cas’ eyes were widened, too, drinking in everything before him as he looked between Dean’s eyes and mouth. Slowly, slowly, he coaxed Cas towards him, their lips just centimeters apart, and they both rose to meet each other. </p><p>It was so <em> warm </em> . Whatever angels had pumping through them, Dean felt it flowing into him, gentle and pure. He brought up his other hand to hold Cas’ face, deepening the kiss. Cas was stiff at first, but then softened and followed along, ghosting a hand over Dean’s side. Dean wondered absently if Cas was only expecting a peck, but there was no way Dean would pass up such an opportunity to French with Cas, especially when he didn't have to get all <em> Desperate Housewives </em> about it. He didn't think Cas would understand, anyway. The taste of Cas’ lips was amazing, it all just felt so right, and before he knew it he was breathless and had to pull away.</p><p>Cas’ hand still clutched to Dean’s jacket, and in his eyes was a hunger Dean had never seen before. He didn't know whether to be scared or turned on.</p><p>Dean leaned down to breathe in his ear, smirking. "How's that for a contract?" </p><p>In a flash Cas had him pinned against the nearby shipment container. He hungrily took his lips, grabbing Dean’s hair in a fist. Dean was surprised at how thrilling it was to be restrained and arched into Cas’ solid weight, and when Cas started sucking and nibbling at his throat, he knew he was a goner.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean moaned gruffly, and he slipped his hands inside Cas’ trenchcoat to pull him closer.</p><p>Running his hands down Dean’s sides, Cas licked into his mouth eagerly as Dean felt arousal pooling in his stomach. He moved a thigh between Dean’s legs making him gasp, and the air around them seemed to sizzle and prickle at the hairs on the back of his neck, the streetlight above them flickering. Dean was putty in his hands as he rutted up against Cas.</p><p>“Castiel,” Dean said again, sounding more desperate by the minute.</p><p>Cas froze. He was still for a moment, his gaze far away before he quietly removed himself from Dean and wiped his forehead with his hand in a humanlike show of exasperation. Dean just leaned against the container panting, eyes hooded. Did he say something wrong…? His mind was hazy.</p><p>“I’ll contact you when you’re needed.” He murmured, and was gone.</p><p>Well, damn. Leave it to an angel to give you the best make out session of your life and then leave you half-hard in a shipment yard. Dean uncomfortably adjusted his jeans with a frown. He'd have to see what kind of other angel deals were on the menu after this whole apocalypse thing was over.</p><p>The sky was black--no stars to be seen in this city. Suddenly Dean felt very cold.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know people have described grace as cooling, but I have this theory that Cas' grace only becomes cool after he rebels, and that angels still connected to God have warm grace.<br/>It's from Dean's POV so I tried to keep it as mysterious as I could what Castiel was actually thinking. But if you know how 4x22 goes you'll probably be able to figure it out ;)</p><p>Thanks for reading!! ^_^ This is my very first Supernatural fic after joining the fandom back in December after the show ended. Somehow I feel like I'm connecting to my ancestors LOL</p><p>Comments and kudos appreciated &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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